


Under The Influence

by Cephy



Category: Last Remnant
Genre: Drugs, Injury, M/M, Video Game Mechanics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-13
Updated: 2010-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-06 06:17:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cephy/pseuds/Cephy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...'relaxing herbs', hunh?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under The Influence

It had been a crushing blow along the right side, caused when a Demon King broke through their forward guard. Luckily, all of his Generals were skilled in the healing arts, more so than many doctors of his acquaintance; they had treated the injuries in the field, and successfully so, although Rush's body remained weakened. The joints and bones were still fragile in the wake of their knitting.

It had been, David thought, much too close.

Emma glanced at him from where she was preparing a draught. "He will be fine, my lord. He is healed, his body just needs the time to recognize that."

She brought over a cup, lightly steaming; the sweetly bitter odour of relaxing herbs spread throughout the room. "To keep him from wrenching about in his sleep, or when he wakes," she explained, needlessly. She passed the cup to Torgal, whose four strong arms could more easily keep their patient supported while they made him drink.

None of his Generals seemed inclined to protest nor even seemed terribly surprised when he waved them out and stayed to keep the vigil, himself. Not that he had truly expected them to, since they were all more perceptive than most gave them credit for, and he had never allowed himself to underestimate them.

He sat by Rush's bedside, observing the stillness in Rush's face, so unlike his usual animation. There was a lock of hair falling over his cheek, nearly at his mouth; David's hand moved almost of its own will to brush it back. After a moment's pause, he allowed it to stay, combing back Rush's hair again and again in a contemplative silence.

One of Rush's arms was bound securely to his side, the ribs beneath it strapped for support. There was a faint swath of paler skin over the shoulder and across one cheek, where the healing arts had grown new flesh to replace that which was torn. It had been _entirely_ too close, David admitted with a chill in his blood. They were skilled, but chance always made a mockery of skill when it could. It was a valuable lesson, and one that he was not likely to forget while the image of Rush carried limply back to the castle lingered. Which was to say, a long time indeed.

"Mm." Rush murmured suddenly, and David froze as eyes slitted open on a lazy, drugged smile. "F'ls nice."

Taking a deep breath, David carefully untangled his hand from Rush's hair and pulled it away. "Welcome back. How do you feel?"

"Good. Real good." Rush sighed out a long, slow breath, still smiling in thoughtless languor. "F'l great, act'lly." He blinked, some of the softness fading from him, smile vanishing into a puzzled frown. "Nn. There w's--" And then a kind of alarm came into his eyes, presumably on the tails of memory. He shifted as if to push himself upright, and David reached out to press a hand to his forehead-- just to keep him still, of course, though that didn't explain why his touch lingered long after Rush settled.

"Easy," he soothed. "It's over. We're in Athlum."

"Ev'ryone all right?"

"Yes," David hastened to reassure. "The only one hurt was you."

Rush blinked owlishly, visibly considering that. "Am I all right?"

David couldn't help but smile, and the expression seemed to loosen something held too tightly in his chest. "Yes. You sustained some fairly serious injuries, but were healed before they could become anything-- more permanent. Now you just need to rest."

"Oh." The frown vanished, the thoughtful worry vanished, and Rush was smiling at him again-- not his usual bright grin but a soft, relaxed curl of lips, a half-lidded warm look. The herb had given him a faint, heated flush across his cheekbones and down his throat, even extending across the exposed skin of his chest. "Okay. You gonna stay?"

David opened his mouth, but no words came forth as that look combined with those words, and it all conspired to subject him to a flood of ideas and images that, to that point, he'd managed to keep safely contained. He felt a flush of heat in his own skin as he replied. "I-- could, if you wish."

"Mm. Good." And Rush _licked his lips_, a slow drag of tongue that was perfectly innocent, to be sure, but which drew David's eyes like he'd been Charmed.

And Rush, damn his eyes, noticed even in his drugged state. He, too, was far more perceptive than most of the world would ever know. "Could come down here 'n lie down," he suggested, smile widening, lips parting.

"No, that--" That would not be a good idea, not when Rush was injured and needed to stay still. But oh, the thought was more tempting than it had any right to be. It wasn't that he hadn't thought about Rush, hadn't imagined what it would be like to take all of that eager energy to bed. Far from it. He could only imagine that Rush would be as enthusiastic and unselfish between the sheets as he was in everything else.

But there was something infinitely appealing about this Rush, as well, open and defenceless and trusting. He could imagine, all too easily, pushing back the coverlet and covering Rush's skin with his own, taking that body as it opened to him without the slightest barrier. He could imagine all _sorts_ of possibilities.

Rush nudged up into David's touch; David's fingers had somehow managed to thread their way back through Rush's hair. With an effort, he pulled back his hand once more, ignoring the faint sound of disappointment the motion evoked, ignoring the clear invitation that was still on Rush's face. "No," he said, and then again, more certainly: "no."

The faint pout on Rush's lower lip was almost enough to undo his resolve. "Why not?"

"Because," he managed, pointedly, "you've never made this sort of invitation before, and under the circumstances it would feel too much like coercion. I would never do that to you," he finished quietly.

Rush's look was too fond. "Know you wouldn't. 's okay."

And that should have been the end of it, only David found that he couldn't leave it at that. He couldn't, not when he'd been thinking about it so often and Rush seemed so willing-- perhaps they'd simply missed the signs in each other, all this time. "I will make you a bargain, though," he said after a breath. "If, when you're healed and in your own mind again, you still wish it, I-- would have no further protest."

Rush gave him a squinting stare. "Promise?"

"On my honour."

"Mm. Good." Rush reached up with his free hand, slow and clumsy, grabbing hold of the front of David's shirt before he could think to move away-- pulling with surprising strength and coordination until David's lips came down upon his own. It was instinct, purely that, which had David pressing his tongue for entrance-- instinct, and perhaps the suggestion of too many thoughtful and solitary nights. Rush's mouth opened without hesitation under his, welcoming his press with an easy softness that had David groaning before he pulled back.

Rush's eyes glittered, too perceptive. "You like this, don' you? Me, like this."

"It-- has an appeal," David said, his voice emerging somewhat strangled. "But please don't think--"

"Nn." The hand in his collar released, one finger at a time, and came up to pat twice at his cheek before settling there comfortably, sword callous a startling contrast to the memory of his lips. "Don' mind. Feels good." He sighed, closing his eyes, still smiling. "Promised," he murmured. "R'member."

David let out a shaky sigh of his own, a curious sort of euphoria stealing over him. "Small chance I could forget," he murmured in reply, but Rush was already asleep.

***

Duties called, however, taking David away for several days; by the time he returned, he found that a fully recovered Rush had been called off by his friend Caedmon to deal with an issue in Celapaleis.

Disappointed, and unable to deny it to either himself or the knowing looks of his Generals, David went about his duties and resigned himself to wait. Not, he reminded himself, that it was a certainty what would happen when Rush did return. Perhaps he didn't remember-- all too possible, given his state at the time. Or perhaps he had changed his mind. Or perhaps--

It was after a particularly long session with various minor officials that he returned to his chambers only to stop still in the doorway. Rush was seated at his desk, the chair turned so that it faced the door. He was smiling, not quite his usual expression but something tight and bright and electric that made all of David's thoughts of weariness vanish like so much smoke.

As he watched, Rush reached to the side-- and picked up a cup, gently steaming, with which he toasted David solemnly before tipping it to his lips and draining it to the dregs.

David walked over and picked the cup from Rush's hand, taking the measure of the leaves lying wet at the bottom of it. Not nearly the dose Rush had taken when injured, but more than enough to be effective. David looked back at Rush, barely daring to believe.

Rush smiled up at him, his cheeks already flushing from the herb, pupils beginning to dilate dark and wide. When David leaned down to kiss him, he tasted bitterly sweet.


End file.
